Green Eyes, the Toe Breaker and Me
by PeachyKeen83
Summary: Peyton Sawyer had gotten everything she wanted in life - the boy, the friends and the forgiveness. But what if someone was watching her all this time... someone who decided she didn't deserve any of it at all? Someone who decided that karma was a dish best served with a side of agony? Not for the faint-hearted nor for fans of Peyton Sawyer. Rated M for a reason. Re-upload. xo


_**Green Eyes, the Toe Breaker and Me**_

"Destroy the seed of evil, or it will grow up to your ruin."  
 _Aesop_

 ****** WARNING: ******

This is NOT a story for those who get squeamish over gore. The scenes are very gruesome and detailed in parts and you are reading at your own risk.

Just a fair warning to you all.

Thank you to my gorgeous Leli for being my beta. You rock my socks.

 *** Disclaimer ***

This story has been burning inside of me for quite some time, scratching at my insides and imploring me to write it down. And with the love and support of some very dear friends, I've finally done it.

So here it is.

Naturally, I don't own Peyton Sawyer who appears in this fic ( _thank fuck for that_ ). That ridiculous excuse for a character was created by Mark "Markhole" Schwahn, and since his perversely adored creation always leaves me with the taste of vomit in my mouth, naturally what you're about to read, had to happen.

I also do not own Brooke Davis or Lucas Scott. Once again they belong to the douche mentioned above. Although if I did own them and Tree Hill, the farce that was season 6 would have been avoided. But since I do not, and the world according to the afore-mentioned twat is supposedly boring as bat shit, I had to make do with my own imagination.

It was inevitable that this day would come.

Furthermore, I have to say that the other two people mentioned in this fic do not belong to me either. They are simply two amazing, creative, adventurous people who are not afraid to take risks or speak their mind about the evil that is Seyton. My continued hate for the _fragging bitch whore_ from hell is merely fuelled by their mutual abhorrence of her too. I enjoying hating her, but it's even better when I can hate her with them!

We are the **Elite Seyton Haters!**

 ***** _ **Albi, Todd, Meaghs, Mel, and my girls Tiff and Lelina**_ *****

I dedicate this to them and to any other person who believes that karma is a bitch, and what goes around comes around – ten fold.

"The function of wisdom is to discriminate between good and evil."

 _Cicero_

Clearly Mark does not possess wisdom. But we do. Good shall triumph over evil.

 _Enjoy!_

"I saw a pale horse, and a pale rider upon it. The name of the horse was Pestilence. The name of the rider was Death."

 _Steven King_

Bitterly cold.

That was the first sensation that hit her as her heavy eyelids fluttered open to the absolute darkness which surrounded her. She went to move but found she could not. Her hands were bound behind her, the thin ropes digging into her skin, the sting of them travelling up her arm like a steady river flowing out to the sea. She could feel the back of the chair which held her captive, scratchy and forceful behind her, and a dull ache began to form in the small of her back. From the feeling that invaded her body, the weariness of being seated in the same position for far too long, she guessed she had been there a while. Tiny shafts of light forced their way through miniscule holes, racing towards an unknown destination across the dimly lit room, flickers of dust floating lightly and gracefully in the air. It was upon following one of these particles of dust to its final resting place on her lap, that she noticed her feet. Thick, rough ropes were twisted around them, tied in perfect knots. She could now feel the pull of them on her skin, a slight burning sensation emerging around her ankles as they ate away at her. She let out a small cry of fear, trying to shuffle her body so that she could attempt to remove the knots, but it was useless. She turned around and tried to take in every bit of information that this cell offered her, her now increasing fear crawling up her throat, making its presence known like a child pulling at its mother's arm for attention. The smell in the air was damp, almost like the smell of the rocks that have been submerged by the side of a creek, only this smell didn't carry with it the warm feeling one would get from such a place in nature. This smell was bitter, almost lead-like. It invaded her nostrils and forced her to wake up. As she looked around she realized she did not recognize where she was. Her heartbeat picked up it's pace, and she could feel the anxiety rise within, gnawing at her insides, wreaking havoc.

The decaying, grey stone walls were caked in thick mossy tufts spread sporadically, with little rivers of coal black water trickling downwards and forking out as they reached the ground. The ground itself was hard and scratchy, uneven in many places, with dirt piles lumped uncaringly across it. There was a table in the far corner, its top covered with various items. She squeezed her eyes closely together to try and see what lay atop, but it was too far to see and she let out a defeated sigh. Hopelessness began to fill her mind.

Suddenly, she heard the pacing of footsteps above her and her breath slowed down as she followed the direction of the ominous thuds, straining to make sense of any noises she heard. Her heart began beating expeditiously, pushing its way into her dry, scratchy throat, almost as if it were preparing to jump out of her chest at any minute. The footsteps slowed in the far right corner, and suddenly she could hear the banging and screeching of locks being opened. A flash of light entered the room, illuminating the stairs in the far right corner of the door as she squirmed in her seat, the fear within her beginning to choke her. She recognized at once she was in some sort of basement, and as the table lit up she could now make out perfectly that there was tools on top of it. Work tools. _Sharp tools_. A whimper escaped her lips as the footsteps came down the stairs, the menacing thudding as they hit the wooden stairs only serving to increase her unease. Her mind raced with thoughts of what lay waiting for her, unable to erase the image of the jagged instruments, spewed on the table.

The footsteps slowed as they neared the bottom of the stairs, and their keeper began to move towards her, a casual nonchalance in his manner, a light-heartedness in spite of the grim setting. As he closed in on her, he smiled, seemingly glad she was now awake, his green eyes alight with thoughts of an unforgivable manner. She strained her eyes as she took in his appearance, but she did not recognize him. His shaggy hair hung loosely around his head, perfectly framing the contoured face. Her heartbeat accelerated as he drew near, rapid and uneven breathing of prey being stalked. He pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her, watching her with a warm yet menacing gaze. She said nothing, her chest rising and falling with the every jagged breath she took, watching him, waiting for some sign of what was happening. Finally, he took a deep breath, running his hand over his mouth as he cleared his throat, expelling air into a room of stale horror.

"Well, Peyton Sawyer, I am glad to see you have awoken. Our meeting wouldn't have been the same had you been asleep through all of it."

His voice was foreign and deceptively charming, ironic considering the circumstance in which she now found herself. Had he been a stranger on the street no one would have picked him to be capable of this. Perhaps that was why she was now down here, tied and bound like a dog, and no one seemed to be the wiser for it. He watched, his eyes smiling at her, sparkling like diamonds. _Again with the deceptive charm_. He urged her to speak with the raising of both his hands, his eyes willing her to ask the inevitable, her monotonous ways predictable.

"Who are you? What the hell am I doing here?"

He sighed, obvious disappointment in her choice of words. He nodded his head though, as if confirming to himself that this part of the conversation was necessary before he could continue. _Before the truth could be set free_.

"First of all, you and I both know that you won't ever know who I am. At least, not until the end. Had you been paying closer attention to the people around you in this life, rather than focusing on yourself, you may not have had to ask that question."

He leaned back in his battered chair, the fraying edges displaying its age. He folded his arms across his chest, frowning a little as he began to answer the latter part of her question.

"Secondly, you really have no idea why you may be in this current situation?"

He raised his eyebrows at her, clearly imploring her to search her brain for the answer. Thoughts flew through it, trying to figure out what possible horrific act she could have committed that would lead her to such a precarious situation. As the minutes dragged on he began to tap his foot impatiently, the curved boot dominating the solid floor beneath it.

"Come on, _think_ Peyton."

His voice was soaked in annoyance, disbelief that Peyton could not work this out sooner. She began to shake as she searched back into the far reaches of her memory, but nothing came to mind. Tears began to well in her eyes, and she fought back the sobs that were crawling their way up the back of her throat yet again, hungrily searching like fire for oxygen. She searched the far corners of her mind, urging herself to think of what she could have done, where she could have gone wrong to find herself in such a mess, but her mind drew a blank. She whimpered dejectedly, terrified of what her lack of response would mean. She was about to find out.

He stood and walked over to the table, fiddling about with the tools that were placed there. Peyton could hear the bashing and scraping of metal and wood, both sounds amplified in her ears, hairs standing up all over her body. She whimpered again, the sound echoing across the room and dancing at his ear. His strong lips curled upwards in a smirk, the sound having held some pleasurable tone to him. He turned to face her, his eyes alight with his own special brand of ecstasy – her pain.

 _Her suffering._

 _Sweet intoxication._

He picked up a knife and moved towards her, eyes trained on the target. It was like a game of cat and mouse, only the mouse couldn't move, and it was time for the cat to play.

He knelt down beside her and laid the knife on her legs, its silver blade an excruciating warning of what was to come. She inhaled sharply, her heartbeat accelerating with the touch of the cold, harsh metal on her skin.

"Please," she begged, her wide, moist eyes displaying her fear. Her lips trembled, her chest heaving up and down in frantic movements.

" _Begging, and it's so early_ ," he thought, smiling up at her. This was better than he'd imagined.

"Tell me," he asked her, standing up pacing in front of her as she sobbed, the sound choking in her throat as the overwhelming sense of dread kicked into full effect, "Does that line work when other people beg of you to stop screwing them over?"

Peyton sobbed again, a pathetic wail echoing in the air, quickened breaths choking her as she scrambled for the right words, for any words, to have this make sense.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she wept, looking up at him, into a pair of eyes that only resonated hate back. _Pure hatred_. It was a horrific thing to witness, especially when it exploded.

 _Whack!_

Peyton's head snapped sideways sharply as his hand connected with her cheek, infusing it with an agonizing sting that quickly spread across her face. She could feel it burning up, sure that it would leave a mark. She cried out then, her screeching sobs falling on silence, on nothingness. Her voice was hoarse, her tear-soaked face red from the continuous overflow of tears.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch! No more lies! You know exactly what you've done!"

The automatic response was devastating, a harsh voice to go with such a sweet face. It really wasn't logical at all, but where the hell did logic come into it when you're strapped to a chair with an incensed man in front of you? She felt sick, like someone was messing with her insides, twirling them around in directions they didn't want to go, screaming for reprieve. But it wasn't coming, and the dread was overpowering. She closed her eyes and waited for the next onslaught, as he removed the knife from her lap.

"Now, now, Dude," came a strange new voice, the sound of it alone causing Peyton to literally stop breathing. "Don't go getting ahead of yourself. We have plenty of time to make her FUCKING pay."

 _Another voice. Another person. Another reason to scream._

" _There were more of them? Oh god,_ " Peyton thought, the nauseous feeling returning stronger than ever. From the corner of her eye she could see him advancing, his eyes trained on her like a vulture coming in for the kill. His dark locks clung to his face, wispy bits darting out in certain places. His accent was American, of that she could tell, but not from around here. Yet again, she did not recognize him, but he certainly knew her.

He circled her then, watching her, taking in every detail of her face, contemplating something as he brought his hand to his chin. It was a look that made her skin crawl. Suddenly the intense stare was replaced by a look of complete confusion, and he shrugged his shoulders, looking at his counterpart for assistance.

"I don't get it, I really don't."

He walked up to her and tilted his head from side to side, trying to understand the puzzle that was sitting before him.

"Chicken legs, no tits, bony arms, duck face… what _is_ the fucking fascination with you, because I really don't see it? I really don't get it? _Fucking hell!"_

He shook his head in disgust, his nose crinkling as if he'd smelt something putrid. He scratched his head as if searching for an answer that would never come to him.

"You're not even mildly attractive, yet you managed to fuck two brothers, a father of one and a rock star? Emo must be in this season? Either that, or the men in this town have zero fucking taste!"

His friend sniggered behind him, clearly in agreement with everything he had just said, and moved over to the table once more, the clinking of metal yet again causing Peyton to tense up, every hair on her body standing on end. Her reaction caused the man with the cruel words in front of her to smile wickedly, expelling a satisfied breath of air as it appeared that her fear served only to please him. She looked up and glared at him then, her fear pushing her to react, a scream burning at the back of her throat. She stared him down, trying to act unafraid, trying to be braver than she actually was.

 _Dumb move._

He didn't like this change or the way she glared at him. Stepping towards her he scowled, standing on her toes and pressing down harshly, her face twisting up in misery as the pain travelled up her leg.

 _Snap._

She could feel her big toe throbbing, clearly broken, as a warm, wet sensation began to pool around her foot. The pain was excruciating.

"Ow… OW!" She screamed in anguish, fresh tears streaming down her face as she cried out in agony, twisting at her hands, trying to get free. It was no use. Suddenly her chin was grasped tightly, firm fingers wrapping around it painfully as she was forced to look at the fierce eyes in front of her.

"Look at me like that again bitch, and I will remind you that you still have nine toes left."

He shoved her face backwards as he released her, the chair rattling a little as she bounced back, no will to fight back or defy him again. She kept her head down, her eyes avoiding his stormy glare, knowing what would happen if she tried to take him on again.

However the commotion between the two was enough for the rattling on the table to stop, as the other one looked over, shaking his head from side to side, breathing out slowly as he looked at his partner.

"Come on now, pace yourself. We have plenty of time to play and plenty of things to play with."

He smiled then, raising his chosen instrument as he stepped toward Peyton slowly, watching her with his intense eyes. She shuffled in her seat, pulling again at the chords that were binding her hands, digging into her skin, cruelly ripping away its top layers. Her wrists were burning as her skin was slashed at by the hungry rope, the pain causing her to almost lose concentration, until she saw what was headed her way.

A whimper escaped her lips as she observed what the first man had in his hand, the blade shining in the dimly lit room, warning her of what was to come. He noticed her reaction and smiled, running his finger carefully over the blade, taunting her. Stepping towards her, he dangled the knife before her eyes, watching her follow the swaying blade, hypnotized by fear. It was a moment of complete fixation – her on the blade, and him on her suffering.

"Do you even know why this is happening to you?" he asked her, his voice calm yet slightly annoyed at her obvious lack of understanding. She shook her head ' _no_ ', her eyes wild with fright as she watched him, her breaths sharp and quick.

Her oblivion was enough to illicit an annoyed groan from behind. The toe breaker. _Great._

"She's a dumb bitch, too?" he mumbled, shaking his head in incredulity. "Well that's just fucking great!"

Breaking his gaze, the man with the knife turned to face his friend, sighing slightly.

"You actually thought she would be anything other than stupid?" he shook his head slowly, reminding his partner with a glance that they were here for a purpose. He turned and watched her again as he knelt down slowly before her, his trance hypnotic yet terrifying.

Peyton blinked quickly at him as she breathed heavily, too afraid to move, to talk, or to think. She tried desperately to concentrate on her movements, her responses, trying to do the best she could to protect herself, to buy some time. As his green eyes penetrated her she wanted to cower and run way, to be free from his unrelenting scrutiny, from his wrath. But should she turn and look away, she would only be met by an equally fierce gaze, by a man who liked to break toes for a living. Or just for kicks. Either way, she was screwed.

 _Green Eyes, the Toe Breaker and Me_. How inconceivably horrific that sounded, like a title from a horror film. Yet films were make-believe, fictional triumphs… and her terror was very real. Green Eyes was number one, and the Toe Breaker was number two. Two men who wanted her blood. That was all she knew of them.

" _Don't say anything, let them talk and get it out of their system. Then maybe, they will let you go."_

She pressed these words into her mind, trying to muster up some slight resolve to persevere, to have hope. But like all things in Tree Hill, hope is distinctly squashed in the name of the greater evil. So she watched Green Eyes, waiting for his inevitable outpour of reasoning. Bringing the knife within her vision, he pointed it towards her as he spoke, his words deliberately slow so that she could absorb them.

" _Selfishness!_ That is why you are here Peyton. You take and take and take, and you never stop to think about what your behavior does to others. What you are taking away. You don't see what you do, so wrapped up in yourself, too stupid to care. It's sickening!"

He stood up and circled her again, his deliberate movements making her skin crawl and her heart accelerate at an unhealthy pace.

"But we see it, Peyton. We see you for what you really are," he continued, glaring at her with contempt, his hate for her growing within. Everything about her made him sick to the core, a feeling spurned on by years of watching her use and abuse people. Years of watching her get away with it. Well, not anymore.

 _Payback's a bitch. Especially to a bitch._

"And so we come to this moment. A perfect moment of clarity, isn't that what your boyfriend called it? You know, the one you selfishly stole from your best friend? A moment where you will realize that everything you do gets paid back, ten-fold. It's what the universe likes to call karma, and the world is now making sure that you collect what is owed you."

The Toe Breaker spoke up then, his eyes alight with the possibilities of what was about the happen, all the fun he was about to have. He grinned at her, yet she felt no comfort. She knew he was after her blood.

 _Her blood._ The thought alone made her heart stop beating.

"What goes around fucking comes around, bitch!" he laughed, rubbing his hands together as he stepped towards her menacingly, his eyes ablaze. How she wished he would just stop glaring at her, making her feel so useless, so vulnerable, so trapped.

"Please," she begged him, her voice cracking as she spoke. "I'm sorry, I am. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I just want you to let me go so I can fix things. I can try to change."

Her captors both laughed then, her words seemingly hilarious. She watched them with confused and desperate eyes, searching for answers yet finding none. She knew her words would sound hollow to them, her desperate tone only further fuelling her already pathetic attempts to resolve this.

"You can't change," Green Eyes exclaimed, incredulity in his tone as he shook his head at her. "Years of getting your way have made that impossible now. For you, there is only one solution."

Peyton looked up at him and then directly to his partner. Toe Breaker smiled at her, holding his hands up to wave goodbye, a small, slow movement that tortured her.

"No!" she cried out, wriggling like crazy in the seat which held her prisoner. "I don't deserve this, please, please just let me fix this. I don't even know what I've done wrong!"

Toe Breaker stepped forward, his frame overpowering her as he glowered at her, disgust in his voice.

"That is what makes you so pathetic. You do not see the damage you cause, or you simply do not care. So let us enlighten you, because then you may actually comprehend why you are facing such a fucked up situation."

Toe Breaker went and grabbed a chair from the corner and placed it next to the chair which his team mate was now seated in. They both looked at each other and shook their heads, eyes rolling with sheer annoyance, their bodies seemingly comfortable and unaffected by the atrocity of the situation.

"Brooke Davis," Toe Breaker explained, sighing with his clear admiration for the topic. "She was your best friend and you monumentally screw her over time and time again for your own self-gratification, for a man that never chased you. A man that only went to you when he couldn't have her. She gave him up because you couldn't keep your slutty hands off him. You think that's okay?"

Peyton sobbed a little, the memories of what she had done hitting a sore spot. She knew hurting Brooke was wrong, but she loved Lucas, what was she to do? Suffer? _Pine?_ Surely not?

"I love Lucas," she wailed, her tears streaming down her cheeks in salty cascades, over the lips and into the opened, shivering mouth. "I never meant to hurt Brooke."

"Your love is a lie," Green Eyes chimed in, his voice resolute, his belief strong. "Love is not lying, or stealing, or cheating. Love is what comes to those who wait for it, not those who take it from others like a petty little thief, sneaking in through the back door. Love is not something you tear away from someone else, least of all your best friend."

"Or some poor defenseless woman who spent the better part of three years trying to piece a heart back together that some other bitch broke!" Toe Breaker chimed in, his anger clearly rising. "I mean, what the fuck gave you the right to do that to Lindsay?"

"And Jake," Green Eyes claimed, his eyes glaring at her. " _I love you, Jake…. Oooh marry me_ , and then you leave? What the hell is wrong with you that you think you can mess with people's hearts like that?"

Toe Breaker nodded his head furiously before continuing himself.

"Condemning Haley for trying to have a life of her own, treating her like crap for weeks when she returns, yet you have done so much worse! How many lives have you ruined on your fucking crusade for happiness? Creating misery does not entitle you to happiness. You deserve fuck-all, you filthy little _whore."_

Peyton sobbed woefully, their words cutting through her like a knife, an ironic feeling to have, considering the present situation. Everything she did, every breath she took, she did for Lucas Scott, for their love. She knew it would hurt people in the end, but isn't love supposed to conquer all? Wasn't that the whole point?

"Love conquers all," she whispered to herself, defying them with her eyes, the move that saw her lose a toe not so long ago.

Of course Toe Breaker stepped forward again, but this time Green Eyes stopped him, a hand to his chest as he glared at Peyton, shaking his head from side to side.

 _She really was stupid._

"What you have, what you think you feel… it's not love." He walked deliberately towards her then, his eyes trained as his words tore through her and clutched at the last remaining shred of hope she carried.

"You lie, you cheat, you steal, you covert that which does not belong to you and you say you do it for love, but that is not love. That is a _lie_. It's all a lie, a delusion in your head. And it's time we fixed it. It's time for you to accept what is coming to you. That love does not grace the souls of those who have no soul in the first place."

 _No soul. Soul-less P. Sawyer._

Peyton knew she was toast then. All the fighting, the pleading, and the begging in the world was not going to change the outcome of this situation. She only needed to look at the Toe Breaker's expression, the pure elation fixed there, to know that she was screwed; or the adamant look of Green Eyes, his condemnation of her ringing in her ears. There was nothing but pure hatred residing in both of these men, and it was aimed solely at her.

And so she cried, screaming at the top of her lungs for help although she knew it would fall on deaf ears, thrashing in her chair, the rope digging in tighter, ripping at the flesh and burning her, her throat scratching and her eyes sore from her incessant tears. She knew her spectacle would only serve to allow them the joy of watching her suffer, but she had almost nothing left now, her desperation being the one thing she retained, her voice and being able to hear it, being her one link to knowing she was still alive, still here, still surviving.

 _Not for long._

The Toe Breaker moved towards her then, a filthy rag in his hand and a menacing look in his eyes. She wriggled desperately in her chair, trying to out maneuver him, but it was useless. She was trapped, like a bug caught in the web of a deadly spider. It was only a matter of time before the spider came to kill and the bug ceased to be.

The rag was wrapped around her moth, the taste an indescribable mixture of salt and bitterness, staining her tongue. She could feel her throat convulse, gagging for air, and she let out a strained choking sound, the noise echoing throughout the dark and damp prison of a room. The fear choked her just as much as the rag did, the emotion heightened as Green Eyes stepped towards her, twirling a knife in his hand, his eyes fixated on her as he approached slowly, contemplating his move. His lips opened to speak, his words profound for such a setting.

"You know Peyton, Mark Twain once wrote that 'the fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.' If you do not feel that you are prepared to leave this world at any given moment, what _have_ you been doing with your life?"

Her silence was enough of an answer in itself. In many ways, her silence spoke volumes of what she was thinking, what she was feeling, what she was realizing. It was her realization that they strived for, the whole purpose to the elaborate plan that had taken moments to plan, after years of watching the carnage Peyton always left behind. Now she was to be left behind.

 _Sweet, poetic justice._

"And now, Peyton Elizabeth Sawyer, we say goodbye."

Her eyes widened in alarm. Black pupils growing, tears forming, as he walked towards her and raised the knife. She looked past him at the Toe Breaker moments away, his own expression of complete satisfaction enough to make her sick to the core. She screamed through the rag, her muffled cries serving only to make the Toe Breaker laugh at her, his voice a sadistic lullaby to her ears, taunting her, fuelling her fear.

"Sweet fucking dreams, bitch." He laughed, winking as Green Eyes stopped before her.

The glistening silver blade of the knife was like a flash of lightning as it came down towards her, piercing her skin with ease, like it was made solely for that purpose. She screamed in agony, the red liquid from within oozing down her arm like a cascade of waterfalls, her shoulder throbbing in agony, the blade leaving a gash that was never to be closed. And almost as quickly, there was another stabbing feeling, this time the other shoulder, once again the same mind-numbingly painful sensation soaring down her arm and inflaming her fingertips, screaming for the reprieve that was never to come.

Suddenly she was grasped from behind, her hair ripped from the power of having her head forced backwards so uncaringly.

"I fucking hate your hair," came the terrifying voice of the Toe Breaker as he set to work on removing as much of it as possible with his bare hands.

Peyton's head throbbed as she felt her hair torn from her scalp, once again a horribly familiar burning sensation taking over her mind, the pain being all she could focus on. Her breaths shot out in quick succession, panic twisting its way through her system, devouring her internally as she was tortured. She screamed through the rag, although she knew it was hopeless, although she knew her cries would be muffled. She screamed because there was no other way to express the pure agony she was feeling. She longed for it to stop, for a moment of release, but as she noticed Green Eyes coming towards her, the same menacing look, a bottle with liquid in his hands, she knew the chance of such a release coming her way any time soon was an impossibility.

He ripped at her clothes, tearing them from her skin and exposing her mid section as she once again screamed at him to stop. Both men looked at each other then in obvious revulsion, her body utterly repulsive, even in a room with limited lighting.

"I still don't fucking get it," the Toe Breaker chimed in, placing his hands on either side of her head and forcing her to look down at her stomach.

She was going to watch Green Eyes make a masterpiece of her flesh.

He tipped the bottle above her, drizzling the clear liquid on her stomach slowly, painfully, deliberately. He watched her eyes, scanning for her reaction as her skin caught ablaze and welted, a sizzling sound hissing as the redness took over her skin. Again she screamed, only this time she let out sobs too, trying to wriggle free from the hands that held her there, forcing her to watch her own demise.

"Now that's fucking art," Toe Breaker exclaimed, appreciation in his tone as Green Eyes laughed and agreed, his words of truth flowing freely.

"Best color I've ever seen. Although honestly, red is more becoming on a brunette."

"Agreed," laughed Toe Breaker, his booming cackle filling the room. He leaned into Peyton's ear and mocked her with his cruel words, his voice entering her mind and wreaking havoc. "But you are already so used to coming in second to feisty brunettes, aren't you Seyton?"

He let go of her head and pushed her forward roughly as her neck went numb, the smell of her burning flesh invading her nostrils and sticking there. She rolled her head from side to side, trying to focus but being unable to do so completely. The pain she was feeling, the complete emptiness inside and the onset of defeat, was gnawing at her, nipping at her heels and winning the war that she did not have the strength to fight.

They say once you reach a certain threshold, once you've crossed your pain barrier, everything else your body endures becomes obsolete, no longer hurting you the way it would have before because your body has adjusted to the trauma inflicted upon it.

 _What a lie. What a damn lie._

As he took her hand in his, Peyton felt every crack of her fingers as the Toe Breaker ruined them, her bones snapping loudly as she hollered in agony, thrashing wildly, her head shaking from side to side as she tried to escape the pain. Agony was not a strong enough word for the sheer misery she was enduring, intensified by the ache in her leg as she felt the unmistakable intrusion of a knife slicing through her skin. Once again she felt the warm liquid, her blood, traveling down her leg and pooling around her ankles as Green Eyes made a mess of her calves. She felt wooziness attack her then, her mind wandering off into a cloud of confusion, death seemingly more inviting than the horrible life she was currently suffering.

Peyton felt pain, yet she also felt sleepy, completely aware that this was what the end was going to feel like. This was how she would be remembered as – _a victim_. How would Lucas remember her? She consoled herself in the fact that he would know that she loved him, and that would always be the one thing that could never be taken away from her.

Lucas Scott would remember Peyton Sawyer.

Hey eyes began to close slowly, and she let herself dream of him, feeling suddenly at peace.

 _Splash._

Peyton awoke suddenly with a start, the ice-cold murky water running down her unrelentingly as she jerked back into consciousness, her body now screaming with a new kind of burning pain as the dirty liquid invaded her wounds. Once again she was subjected to the remorseless torture, engulfing her as she tried in vain to escape it. Fresh screams escaped a raspy throat, hoarse from the constant cries of agony.

"You need to be awake for this," came the harsh voice of the Toe Breaker, his words once again causing her body to tense up in fear as he laid the empty bucket beside her. "No time for fucking sleeping now. You can sleep when you're dead."

His word hung over her like a dark cloud, rolling in her mind as she realized just how true they were.

Asleep, forever.

 _Dead._

Green Eyes strode towards her then with deliberate, terrorizing steps, his eyes locked onto hers as he produced his final weapon of choice. The silver blade of the machete, its ominous stance boding evil, screamed at her as she watched it advance towards her. Hairs stood on end and skin crawled as he traced it lightly up her arm, it's cold, stone-like heaviness remaining on her tightened flesh long after the blade had slid past. She closed her eyes to the inevitable doom ascending towards her, like a pale rider emerging over the mountain, his dark shadow in the distance signaling the end.

All the pain, all the torture, all the broken words, promises and hearts were laid to rest, dissolved and disbanded in one final act of violence.

Peyton felt Toe Breaker's fingers curl in her hair as he forced her head back, revealing her neck to the damp air, exposed and vulnerable. In his other hand he held his own machete, the dark weapon just visible from the corner of her eye. One last-ditch effort to jerk out of his grasp, her final movement, was met with an unforgiving blow to the face, the coppery taste of blood invading her mouth.

Green Eyes took his stance, standing over her with the machete raised, deep breaths allowing an almost peaceful calmness to fill him. He glanced over at his partner, nodding his head in one final acknowledgement, their faces serene as they both looked down at her, her eyes wide with terror, blood caked to every inch of her quivering body.

 _Bound._

 _Gagged._

 _Defenseless._

 _Alone._

"Say your goodbyes Peyton Sawyer," Green Eyes ordered, raising the knife above his head.

" _Oh god_ ," she thought, her mind racing with all the things she never got to say. " _This is it_."

"May you burn in fucking hell," Toe Breaker added with a snigger, a final insult that burned through her ears and invaded her thoughts.

In one exquisite blow the knife came down, plunging into her chest with reckless abandon, piercing through her flesh and digging into her heart. She could feel the air sucked out of her as the blade plummeted into her on its dark path, her chest tightening and throbbing all at once, the pain horrendous, her screams penetrating the dark room as the rag was ripped from her mouth, her agony a symphony to their ears.

Her wails were cut short as Toe Breaker made his final curtain call, slicing her throat with his blade and watching as her blood spilled all over the floor, collecting at his feet. Her breaths became short and strained, her mind unable to think straight and struggling to hold on. She blinked furiously as she gasped for air, the horror on her face resembling morbid artwork as the end drew near.

" _Destroying is a necessary function in life. Everything has its season, and all things eventually lose their effectiveness and die._ "

Margaret J Wheatley 

Death, and all its finality, does indeed serve a purpose in the end. It makes one think about the choices they've made, the lives they've touched, and the impact they have had on the world.

Who would remember you? What would they say?

 _How would your memory live on?_

As the energy drained from Peyton's body, her shallow breaths laboring, she thought about her actions, all the things she had done in her short life. How would she be remembered?

 _Who would remember her?_

She closed her eyes, her mind growing weary, wanting to shut down. She had no more energy to fight, no more will to continue. With one last pained gasp, blood gurgling in her throat and spurting out over her lips, she felt her body go limp, succumbing to the blackness, darkness winning the war as she collapsed there, defeated.

It was over.

Death had won.

 _Goodbye Peyton Sawyer. May you burn in Hell._

" _What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."_

T. S. Elliot

Dirt sprinkled over the mound of earth for the final time as a spade dug into the grass, a relieved sigh exiting the lips of the two men who leaned against their shovels' handles, staring at the end of the road.

"We fucking did it Albi, we fucking killed the bitch! How do you feel?" Toe Breaker beamed, his eyes alight with the pure elation he now felt as he grinned at his partner in crime.

Albi turned around and grinned back, his green eyes sparkling at the memory of the night before. The elimination of Peyton Sawyer, no longer a curse on the lives of those around her.

 _The eradication of the plague. They deserved a fucking humanitarian award._

"I'm feeling pretty fucking great right now, Todd," he laughed, dusting his hands off as he picked up his shovel. He carried it towards the back of their truck, throwing it down, as Todd the Toe Breaker followed closely behind. "How do you feel?"

Todd contemplated this thought as he looked back at Peyton's new grave, resting under the Elm Tree, flickers of sun creeping through the clouds as it rose to a new day. A new day without pain. A new day without Seyton. She wasn't even worth the minute it took to think about her. Not anymore.

"I'm fucking hungry," Todd finally announced, throwing his shovel into the back of the truck and turning to face Albi. "Burgers?"

Albi laughed and nodded, turning one last time to say his final goodbye to Peyton Sawyer, alone under the elm tree, now carved with a tiny x to mark the spot. He wasn't ashamed to leave her there; it was poetic in a way.

"People always leave," he whispered to the wind as he turned to face Todd once more, a smile touching his lips.

"Burgers. Excellent notion. You drive."

Todd wiggled the keys in the air and laughed, jumping into the truck and starting up the engine as Albi climbed in beside him. As the engine roared to life, they settled back into their seats and plunged their ride forward, staring ahead at the future in front of them, already so much brighter and so full of promise as the early morning sun kissed the new day.

**~ **Epilogue** ~**

It had been twelve long months.

The leaves of the elm tree blew in the wind as delicate fingers touched the edge of the paper, crinkled and worn from the many times it had been opened, studied and folded away again. As she ran her fingers over the words, Brooke Davis sighed once more in confusion, her emptiness and pain at her friend's callous departure having long subsided. Now all she felt was anger, disbelief that her once 'friend' would leave such a note as her final goodbye. She read the words once more to try and find some meaning to them, some clue as to what could have possibly been raging through Peyton's mind the day she decided to up and leave, throwing away a decade of friendship and the supposed love of her life.

The words made no sense. Yet they sent a clear message.

 _Brooke,_

 _I'm sorry for what I have done. I'm sorry for what I must now do. Tree Hill just doesn't feel like home for me anymore. I belong somewhere else, I know that now. Somewhere far, far away._

 _Don't look for me, don't try to call. Just move on._

 _Let me go._

 _I will not come back again._

 _Peyton._

"Don't bother trying to make sense of it, I gave up months ago."

Lucas' voice filled the air, cutting through Brooke's thoughts as he walked slowly up the hill and stood beside her, pulling the worn letter out of her hand. She sighed in response, leaning into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Do you ever think of her?" she asked, her voice still the sweetest thing he had ever heard.

"Less and less every day," Lucas admitted breathing her in, her shampoo like a floral scent calling to his heart. "Because of you."

Brooke's eyes shifted to meet his stare, his gaze penetrating her very thoughts, seeing into her soul. The recent months had brought them closer, and she had become increasingly aware of old feelings resurfacing, wondering if she was crazy to fall again.

Would Lucas ever feel the same way?

As she turned her head away his hand reached up and stroked her cheek, sending shivers down her spine. Their eyes remained glued to one another as the wind picked up, the rustling leaves peaceful in their tune as the letter slipped from Lucas' hand, tumbling along the grass.

"I've missed you, Brooke Davis," he breathed, his chest rising and falling with his sharp, nervous breaths. He had waited a long time for this moment and he wasn't sure if his heart could take it.

"Do you think we could ever…" he let his voice trail off, nerves getting the better of him.

Brooke bit her lower lip and let out a quick breath of her own, before reaching down and encircling her hand around his, their fingers inextricably curled around each other, the thrill of the touch causing their hearts to begin beating rapidly. She looked up and smiled at him then, giving him his answer.

 _Yes, they could._

 _Yes, they would._

Lucas beamed at her, his happiness evident as he pulled Brooke's hand to his lips, kissing it softly, savoring the supple skin. As he lowered their hands they turned and walked away, unable to tear their eyes off each other as they walked towards their future, leaving the past, and Peyton Sawyer, behind them.

 _Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end._

Seneca

As the sun began to set, the wind rustled the tiny note that now lay abandoned on the ground, the grass clinging to it as it flapped gently in the breeze, forgotten at the base of the elm tree.

Marked with a tiny x.

 _Let me go._

 _I will not come back again._

 _Peyton._

 **~ Many Thanks…~**

I could not finish this without expressing some words to my favorite Seyton-hating people, whose constant animosity towards the worst character ever to be created implored me to write this story.

You all own my heart is some special way.

 **Albi – Bert – Dragon**

Thank you for all your amazing advice when it came to my writing. Your reviews are still the most 'asem' thing I have ever read. When this idea encompassed my mind I knew you had to be part of it.

You take Seyton-hating to a level that is above and beyond.

I only hope I did you proud.

*mwah*

 **Todd – Toddian – My Twin**

See how much your Gemella thinks of you?

Of course you had to be in this, it was like a moment of clarity – a real one. Not that fucked up crap that has been force-fed to us these many years. I hope you relished every act of violence against the witch and enjoyed your role in the story.

You make Seyton hate an art form and I heart you for it.

 **Meaghs – Cherry Blossom – Young Apprentice**

Thank you for all your help reading and pushing me forward with this. Even when you didn't like the gory bits. You are a true gem in my eyes, and I adore you.

Now we can retire to that monopoly street with the red doors, peaceful in the knowledge that the emo witch from hell is gone.

Screw Mark and Seyton. They can both suck on this one.

 **Mel – Moo Moo – Missy Twin**

Boo hearts you.

Thank you for your advice and unwavering support. The world would be a dull place indeed without the amazing Missy Team. We control the world like no others on Earth. TEAM MISSY FTW!

I sincerely hope one day you will share your words with all of us.

We will be delighted when that day arrives.

And last but not least….

My heart and soul… my girls…

 **Leli and Tiff**

My Goddess and my Boo.

Words cannot describe. Thank you for bearing with me, walking me through and not letting me give up. Your amazing support has been both cherished and appreciated tremendously and my world is all the better for knowing you.

" _A faithful friend is the medicine of life."_  
Apocrypha

You are my medicine.

Chrissy loves you both.

 _Always._

Everyone else…

Please read and review.

I know the subject is touchy (or for many of us, pure heaven), but it would be great to hear your thoughts. I have never written anything quite in this genre before, but I hope you all enjoy it all the same!

Much love,

~ * Chrissy * ~


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